Best draw a veil over that album title and head straight for the music – which is tremendously enjoyable. Elliott Sharp's original plan had been to record a sequence of duos with Marc Ribot and Mary Halvorson, then reconvene for a trio set. But clashing schedules put pay to the trio idea, in real time at least, so Sharp devised what he calls two ‘studio fictions’ to ensure that Halvorson and Ribot could play together on his record. ‘Blindspot’ is Halvorson improvising to material recorded the previous day by Sharp and Ribot, while the extended ‘Kernal Panic’ was organised by way of a carefully timed graphic score – marked with indications of sounds, rhythms and ongoing processes – which could be assembled in the studio after the event. The raucous, bone-rattling sounds we encounter during ‘Blindspot’ – packed with lashed strings, falsetto squeaks, quivering glissandi and percussive rustlings – sets out the terrain over which the album will unfold. Sometimes the sheer excess of glutinous sound leaves you wishing for moments of non-twanging repose. But these high-velocity, dextrous displays of technique, allied to equally virtuosic feats of listening, are compelling; miss a single note and you'll struggle to catch up.